Page 2 of Tiki Beach (Paradise Crime Cozy Mystery #6)

The sun had slipped lower, painting the ocean in shades of amber and rose as Pearl lifted her cup. The blueprints crinkled in the salt breeze, tugging at the fragile porcelain anchors holding down each corner.

Tiki leapt suddenly onto the table, hissing, her tail bottlebrush-thick and her one ear pasted back. “Tiki!” I exclaimed.

I reached for her but the cat dodged, weaving between the tea bowls with uncharacteristic clumsiness until she knocked into Pearl’s teapot—the one with the gold repairs tracing its history.

Pearl’s fresh tea splashed across the plans as Tiki’s tail lashed.

The cat stood in front of our hostess and yowled—a sound I’d never heard her make before.

She swiped at the tea bowl Pearl held, then darted off the table to leap into the deepening shadows beyond the lanai.

“I’ll get towels,” I said quickly. Pearl set down her cup and her hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength.

“Leave it,” the older woman said, her eyes following Tiki’s retreat. “Some things must run their course.”

Our hostess returned her attention to the architectural plans, which we were all dabbing at with our napkins—except me, of course, because my napkin was already in use holding the pastries in my bra.

I got up to look for Tiki in the banana trees lining the deck as Kawika appeared with a pile of dishtowels. Pearl focused on the dry spot on the map in front of her. “The meditation garden will . . .” She blinked rapidly, the orchids on her headdress swaying. “Will be . . .”

I hurried to her side, noticing the sheen of sweat on Pearl’s upper lip, how her cheeks had gone pale beneath her makeup.

“Pearl?” I reached for her, but before I could make contact, Pearl’s eyes rolled back.

She slumped sideways, taking the antique teapot with her as she fell out of her low chair.

“Pearl!” I lunged forward, barely managing to catch her head before it hit the teak flooring.

The woman’s frail body went rigid, then began to jerk and tremble—some kind of convulsion. A stroke? Porcelain shattered somewhere behind us as I held her.

“Call 911!” I yelled to Kawika, whose eyes were wide with alarm. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, but Edith already had hers out and was speaking loudly into it.

“Oh, Ms. Pearl!” Kawika’s slippers slapped against the lanai as he rushed to help. His hands shook as he helped me roll Pearl onto her side and hold her in place.

Edith’s voice cut through the chaos, clear and steady as she spoke to the dispatcher, but when I glanced up and met her eyes, her free hand clutched her Kwan Yin pendant, the knuckles white with tension.

“Stay with us, Ms. Pearl. Stay with us,” Kawika said, patting her back, rubbing her cold hands. I monitored Pearl’s pulse with two fingers on her tiny wrist—it was thready and erratic under her papery skin.

When the trembling stopped, I checked for breathing—but Pearl’s chest had gone still. Her pulse had gone to nothing. “Starting CPR!”

My training took over and I did the compressions, leaving the breathing part to Kawika. We could keep going longer that way.

Someone sobbed and the gathered Red Hats formed a circle of crimson toppers and worry around Kawika and me as we took turns working on Pearl. The scent of spilled tea mixed with the orchids that had shaken loose from Pearl’s hat, now lying crushed nearby.

Five compressions. Pearl’s ribcage was so dangerously frail I was afraid to press too hard lest I break her delicate bones.

Kawika breathed for her, his large frame dwarfing hers as he gently exhaled into her slack mouth.

Compressions.

Breathing.

Each second stretched into the next, thick as saltwater taffy being pulled and just as slowly elastic. In the distance, the mournful cry of ambulance sirens held the promise of relief.

A flash of tortoiseshell fur caught my peripheral vision. Tiki had returned. She crouched near the spreading puddle of tea around the broken pot, pawing at the scattered leaves. The cat’s ears lay flat against her skull, and she made a low growl in her throat that raised the hair on my neck.

“Come on, Pearl. Hang in there.” My back and shoulders burned with effort; I was getting ready to trade places with Kawika when the paramedics burst onto the lanai in a flood of urgency and equipment, shouldering us aside.

As they worked on Pearl, I found my gaze drawn back to those spilled tea leaves—but Tiki had vanished again. Hopefully she’d find her way home.

The waves kept their rhythm off in the distance, indifferent to the drama unfolding above the tideline. But their whisper now seemed to carry a different word: hurry .

The paramedics worked efficiently around Pearl’s still form while I helped Kawika clear away the remaining tea things.

On impulse, I scooped up a sample of the spilled tea leaves from Pearl’s pot and took them inside the house.

I found a ziplock bag and put them inside, wondering why I felt so compelled to do so.

Maybe it was because of Tiki’s odd behavior. The cat sure seemed to think there was something wrong with the tea, and she’d prevented Pearl from drinking any more of it.

Back outside, someone had switched on the lanai lights, and the Japanese lanterns Pearl had strung for ambiance now seemed oddly festive against the gravity of the moment.

“I think we’ve got her stable enough to move,” one of the EMTs said, holding up an IV bag. “Bring the gurney!”

His partner took off at a run, and I heard the two remaining personnel talking about calling a chopper to take Pearl to Oahu’s more sophisticated intensive care unit.

The Red Hat ladies had gone back inside the house, and I joined them as Pearl was wheeled through the room. Edith, in full attorney mode, trotted after them providing insurance and contact information.

I paused to let the cavalcade go by. Near me, Opal dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief while Josie patted her shoulder. Clara shook her head sadly. “I hope she pulls through this.”

“We all do. And at least she was with friends,” Josie murmured. “Doing what she loved. Maybe the excitement was too much.”

Kawika brought in a large tray containing the tea things, and Josie waved him away. “Let me deal with those. You get a hospital bag together for Pearl, please.”

“Good idea,” Kawika said, and surrendered the tray.

Josie gathered the special implements with shaking hands, carrying them toward the sink.

I hurried to help her. We ran a sinkful of warm, sudsy water, and Josie carefully placed each piece into the deep washtub. “I’ll just put these—wait a minute.”

“Hmm?” I glanced up, trying to shake off the surreal feeling that Pearl would roll up in her fancy standing wheelchair at any second, cracking one of her sly jokes.

“Pearl’s special tea blend is missing.” Josie held up a lacquered tea caddy. “The one she was so excited about serving today. She keeps it in this and serves it with her grandmother’s ceremonial scoop.”

I frowned but was distracted by the red and blue lights from the end of Pearl’s driveway flashing nonstop emergency warnings across the ceiling. Soon the loud wail of the siren as they departed drowned out any further discussion.

Pearl was on her way—hopefully to a level of care that could avert tragedy.

Once the ambulance was gone, I fumbled my phone out of the kimono’s pocket.

My boyfriend Keone, as a pilot, was privy to the comings and goings at the airport. He’d know if the helicopter the EMTs had ordered was taking Pearl to Maui’s local hospital or over to the intensive care specialists on Oahu.

“What’s up, Trouble?” Keone’s warm voice saying my private nickname was enough to bring quick tears to my eyes—that’s how soft I was getting—a far cry from the tough Secret Service agent I’d been only a couple of years ago.

“Trouble is right. Pearl Yamamoto had us over for a tea ceremony and collapsed. Her symptoms seem like a possible stroke. Something neurological, though it could be a heart attack, I guess. We did CPR until the EMTs took her away. They called for an air evacuation, so they’ll be headed for the Hana Airport.

Can you find out where they’re taking her? I’m hoping it’s Oahu.”

“Let me find out.” The phone went dead immediately.

I liked that about Keone. He never wasted time with personal reactions or unnecessary questions—he took confident action.

I sank onto a nearby stool, holding the phone cradled in my hands.

Josie turned from the sink, a frown between her brows. “I think there might have been someone else at the tea party with us,” she said. “Someone we didn’t see.”

“What do you mean, someone else?” I asked Josie, my investigator instincts perking up despite my exhaustion.

“Just before Pearl collapsed, I noticed movement in the banana trees. I thought it was Tiki at first, but . . .” Josie wrung out a cloth, her hands still shaking . . . “maybe I was wrong.”

Speaking of Tiki, my cat chose that moment to nudge open the door that led onto the back steps. Her eyes were slitted, her ear back, and her kinked tail looked like a bottlebrush.

“Tiki! Where’ve you been, girl?” I gestured to her luxuriously padded carrier, awaiting our ride home. “I thought I’d have to let you walk all the way back.”

Tiki stalked menacingly toward me. She kept up a low warning growl deep in her throat— the same sound she’d made before Pearl collapsed. In her mouth was a scrap of brown paper.

No, not paper. A large, dried leaf.

“That’s not from Pearl’s special tea blend,” Josie said slowly, pointing to the leaf in Tiki’s mouth. “I’ve never seen tea like that before.” Josie was a local expert on Hawaiian plants and herbs and their uses; for her to be unfamiliar meant something.

Tiki let me take the leaf when I reached for it. I pulled out the ziplock bag where I’d stored my earlier sample. “Josie, can I get another bag for this?”